


don't make me wait another day

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas Party, Drunken Kissing, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Height Differences, M/M, Morning After, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Premature Ejaculation, Size Kink, [kind of] - Freeform, height difference kink, its just a lot of soft porn, pls dont @ me about the clothing choices i know im lazy, sobering emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-20 21:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14270352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: “Credence, I must ask you a question.”“Okay Mister Graves, feel free.”“Credence, may I kiss you?”





	don't make me wait another day

**Author's Note:**

> the injury percival has is inspired by[ this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11562165/chapters/25973601)
> 
> i just wrote this because i wanted a remix of another 'size difference' fic i did,  
> which was inspired by a piece of art by crazytom666.  
> im sure you can guess which one [one of the ballerina cre pieces] and also a piece from a different ship.  
> [corvosider if youre curious] obviously i havent posted that one.  
> its a bit more poetic and rambly so i figured i'd put this one up for fun.

Credence is standing with the Goldsteins, half listening to something Tina is saying about Newt’s last letters, his copy of the book he sent over, signed with a flourish, he remembers, as it’s still sitting on their kitchen table, when he sees a dark blur out of the corner of his eye. 

Instead of being nervous and reaching into his jacket pocket for his newly purchased wand, he stills and lowers his shoulders, catching sight of Mister Graves himself staggering over.

His hands are empty, but he’s probably just finished off a glass of his trademark whiskey and soda, as his eyes are glassy, and Credence can smell sweetness of cherries and dry tang from wood smoke. 

“Credence, I must ask you a question.” The man says, swaying close, before straightening up and appearing to steel himself. Credence swallows the gulp of champagne that he’s been pretending he enjoys drinking, in lieu of sticking with just grape juice, and then nods. “Okay Mister Graves, feel free.”

He can feel both of the Goldsteins beginning to mildly retreat, giving him a little bit of space to work with, and then Mister Graves’ hands suddenly rise up to cup his face, as he presses close enough for Credence to be able to count each and every one of his eyelashes, along with the freckles scattered over his nose and cheeks. 

“Credence, may I kiss you?” His words fail him utterly, and all he can do is splutter out:

“Yes, of course, but why-” 

Before suddenly the man is kissing him, and in doing so, giving him something else entirely to focus on. 

They’re surrounded by people, and this party inside of MACUSA is something he’d never have thought existed a few scant months ago. Christmas celebrations organized by witches, [and wizards] with him a part of it. Mister Graves’ lips move over his gently, and there’s a warm press of a tongue right along his bottom lip, before it withdraws, and the man pulls away. 

He breathes deeply against Credence’s mouth and chin, and then drops his hands from where they’ve been caressing his cheeks, thumbs grazing along his jaw. Mister Graves appears shorter than him, by a lot, and that’s when Credence notices he’s not wearing the usual fancy boots, instead he’s clad in simple leather moccasins, for comfort and style. 

As a result, he nearly towers over the man with his gained height advantage, helped by the fact he stands up straight, no longer cowed by ma’s harsh words or fear of the belt. 

Credence blinks, and sees Mister Graves instantly sobering, shrinking away, seeming to regret his choices, while being drunk, or perhaps in spite of his current state. “Mister Graves, I-”

The man shakes his head, pressing a finger to his lips, shushing him, and then smiling faintly. 

“It’s quite alright my boy. Forgive an old man for making his final mistake.” 

He turns away and leaves, with a steady gait, tempered only by a slight limp. 

An ever healing wound from his time spent in Grindelwald’s imprisonment. 

Credence’s jaw slackens, and his throat itches with the need to call out. 

Instead, Queenie plucks his now warm flute of champagne out of his hand, leaving him free to pursue. “Go on honey, go get him.” 

Credence doesn’t quite run, but he chases Mister Graves down, catching him wandering outside the ballroom, slowly descending the main stairwell in a daze of melancholy. 

“Please, wait.” He calls out, and the man turns, to his surprise, going rather pink in the face. 

“Credence, don’t leave the party on my account. I can find my way to a fireplace.” 

He doesn’t confirm to the man that there’s no chance of him being allowed to apparate home in his present condition, but Credence also doesn’t even know how to get to Mister Graves’ brownstone, not really. They’d only gone the once…

He jerks himself back into the present, catching up with the man to take his arm, fairly looming over Mister Graves like some kind of christmas wraith. 

“You don’t need to help me, I’m quite adept at flooing.” 

Credence can’t help but notice the man leans into his touch, his arm, rather than actively fighting him to get away. Mister Graves feels tired, and he looks worse for wear, with dark heavy bags under his eyes, and a deep sadness that even whiskey cannot erase or ease the acknowledgement of. 

Credence walks him down the rest of the stairs, feeling triumphant at least for averting any chance for the man to fall and break his neck, before actively stalling across from the rows of fireplaces. 

The flames inside them twinkle a merry green, looking a lot like the scattered clumps of mistletoe that Credence knows were ample in the ballroom, but that he’d been far from. All it tells him is that Mister Graves really did earnestly want to kiss him. 

“I’m not letting you go home like this. Do you have sobering potions, or a hangover preventer?” 

Credence asks him, only to get a dreamy smile in reply, and a shake of the man’s head, a gentle clap of his hand to the side of his cheek. “The best prevention is simply to keep drinking, silly boy.” 

Mister Graves laughs next, but the truth of his mirth doesn’t reach his eyes, and he slumps into Credence as they begin to move again. 

The closest fireplace is huge, big enough to transport half a dozen people, so it’s nothing for Credence to remain at Mister Graves’ side, and walk with him into the brick and mortar cavern. 

“What exactly are you doing?” He asks, and Credence holds him against his arm more firmly, 

“Taking you home, sir.” Credence takes a fistful of the glittering powder, and tosses it against the flames, speaking as plainly as he can. “Percival Graves’ downtown home.” 

Although it’s an accidental side effect of the flooing, Credence can’t help blushing and hugging the man closer as he ends up flush to his side, one arm around his waist, his head tucked under Credence’s chin. When they land, stumbling out onto Mister Graves’ living room carpet, with a fine dusting of ash and soot, Credence is the one who charms them clean and guides the man over to settle on the couch. 

He carefully sends both of their jackets to hang on the clothes tree inside the front door, and proceeds to Mister Graves’ kitchen in search of the only active ingredients needed for the important potion. 

At least, the nomaj way to solve it. 

Luckily the man’s pantry is overstocked with teas and coffees, along with everything that’s often put in them. Cane sugar, white sugar, and several jars of honey. 

Credence beams. He then pulls out one of the jars and grabs a box of green tea, summoning a large mug and filling it with water from the tap, charmed piping hot. 

Next he puts two bags of green tea into it, and times them for around five minutes. 

Once the scent of mint has reached his nostrils, he stirs in three spoonfuls of honey. 

Credence carries his precious cargo over to where Mister Graves lies slumped to the side, and sets it down on the coffee table in front of him. Upon sitting beside the man, Credence gently puts a hand to his cheek, stroking his fingertips over the rough graze of stubble on his face, and then higher, up till he can push the wild strands of dark hair back from his forehead. 

“Mister Graves, I need you to open your eyes, sit up a little. I made you something.” 

The man stirs almost violently, and blinks, dazed, staring over at Credence, before his eyes focus, and he licks his lips. “Credence, good mercy what’re you doing here? It’s almost midnight.” 

He looks outside, gauging the light of the moon, not even bothering to cast a  _ tempus _ . 

“Mister Graves, it  _ is _ midnight. Merry christmas. Now, drink this.” 

The man doesn’t even grumble at him, he does so right away, scooping the mug into his hands, and blowing on the top of it carefully, before drinking. 

Credence tries not to notice how much smaller he looks here, without his massive coat and the mere presence of MACUSA to help him maintain his  _ ‘larger than life’ _ aura. 

Mister Graves, Percival James Graves the first is only a mortal man, and Credence is still in awe of him, at every turn. 

He finishes the tea, and perks up greatly, despite there being not an ounce of magic in it, that Credence knows of, in any event, then he turns to look at him, again, as if seeing him truly for the first time. 

“Did I… oh no, I made you come home with me, didn’t I?” Mister Graves whispers softly, looking desperate, then horrified with himself. 

Credence hastens to correct the man, taking the empty mug from his hands, feeling his warmed skin. 

Mister Graves flinches a little, but doesn’t actually pull away.

Credence feels emboldened, so he shifts closer on the couch, until their thighs are just brushing together, and Mister Graves glances down to take in the contact. 

“No, you didn’t make me do anything. In fact, I came with you. I uh, I  _ made _ you bring me along. I wanted to ensure you got home safely.”

The man’s smile is heartbreaking, and Credence is more than certain he sees the gleam of tears in his eyes. That only makes his begin to sting slightly with his own tears, and the next thing he knows he’s blinking rapidly to hold them off. 

“You’re so sweet. Far better a man than me. You should go. You still might be able to find someone to kiss you under the mistletoe, as you deserve.” Mister Graves sounds wistful, and full of regret.

As if he  _ knows _ what he did, while under the bold influence of whiskey. 

Credence swallows thickly, and then shakes his head. 

“I don’t want to leave. Not if you don’t want me to. I had a lovely kiss already.”

Mister Graves’ smile wobbles, and his eyes dart down to Credence’s mouth. “Is that right?” 

He nods.

The man’s chest heaves as he inhales deeply, and Credence can’t help noticing how it strains the buttons of his shirt. Mister Graves is too broad for his clothing, now that he’s recovered and back to his usual weight and strength. 

Credence’s hands itch to pull at the sides of it, to open it further, and reveal more skin. 

He wonders how Mister Graves might sound were he to put his mouth  _ there _ , on the line of the man’s collarbone, or up the arch of his neck. Credence knows the man wants the very same thing. 

He’s as much confessed that, from longing looks to wayward thoughts that Queenie’s caught by accident. She told him in confidence, and he simply hoarded away every single tidbit about Mister Graves that he could learn. 

How he likes his toast, buttered on both sides, after being warmed just till it’s that side of crunchy. 

His coffee, black with two sugars. 

Mister Graves even  _ hates _ when he’s addressed politely, ergo, how often Credence calls him just that. 

He’d like to be addressed as Percival, or even Percy, but Credence is far too formal, and terrified even, to make them more intimate. But it’s past time for pretending otherwise. 

Credence is deeply, madly in love with Mister Graves, with Percy, and he knows he needs to do something about it. 

“Percival, I hadn’t kissed you in so long, I forgot what it felt like. Could you remind me again?” 

Credence says, and there’s a gleam of something besides a falling tear on the man’s cheek, as he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

Mister Graves looks startled at the use of his first name, but Credence can tell he’s secretly delighted. 

The man grows a touch red in the face again, and then just nods. 

“Come here.” He beckons with his words, his hand, curling an arm around Credence’s waist and tugging him bodily forward until he’s nearly sprawled in the man’s lap, and forced to sit up and straddle his waist. Percival, for that’s what he thinks of him as now, is shorter still from this angle, but it’s perfect, just enough of an advantage that Credence can duck down, and capture his lips in a kiss once more. 

The man’s hands go from grasping his waist, and floundering at his side, to both framing his hips, and Credence feels the desperation rolling off of Percival in waves, as his fingers dig into his skin, through the fabric of his clothes. 

“What would you have of me?” Credence manages to ask, his voice more of a rasp than real words, and Percival groans into his mouth, pausing only to rest his forehead against his own. 

“I don’t know. Anything, everything. Whatever you want.” Credence licks his lips, and then shifts his hands up to the man’s shoulders, squeezing boldly, before moving down to begin unbuttoning it, just as he wants. “Okay.” He answers, and Percival leans back, minutely lifting his hips and rearranging himself beneath Credence so that his thighs part slightly, and he’s no longer so oblivious to how he’s affecting the man. 

The bulge in his dress pants makes Credence’s face heat, and he knows very well that he’d  _ like _ to touch Percival there, but he’ll be polite first. So first his hands splay over Percival’s bared chest, and appreciate how the man’s shirt halves are hanging open on his shoulders, thus, Credence can now do as he wishes. 

His mouth hangs open as he licks down from Percival’s jaw, his earlobe to his neck, and then that obvious dip of his collar, to the flat of his sternum. 

Credence’s hands slide down the man’s chest, around his torso to flatten on his back, feeling the ridges and dips of his spine, as Percival’s hands do their own exploring. 

They cup and grope on his ass, before pulling back to boldly caress on his groin, and there’s no way Percival cannot feel how Credence’s cock begins to thicken further in his pants. 

Credence’s eyes flutter closed, and he has to stop, resting his cheek against Percival’s chest, feeling his pounding heartbeat, evidence of how nervous he is too, just as much from all of this. 

It’s so new, and rather scary, as much as it is exhilarating. 

Credence rocks down just so, feeling Percival’s fingers tighten, while his other hand remains on his ass, methodically squeezing and relaxing. He thinks there’s a sudden ache inside him, not in his chest, or his gut, but lower, some place he cannot name. Not without blushing. 

Percival grunts against him, and Credence realizes his hands have slid all the way down, so that he’s teasing along the man’s waistband, and he sucks in hard, the dip of his stomach brushing along Credence’s knuckles. 

“I’m not going to have you on the couch, I’ll end up with my back out on the floor.” Percival tells him, a growl of a promise, and he smiles into the man’s skin. 

“So take me to bed, Mister Graves.” Credence can’t resist saying this, addressing him formally one more time, not when it makes Percival react like he does, infused with the strength of ten men, he stands up boldly. He keeps Credence clinging to him, perhaps with magic as he carries him down the hall. 

Percival strides towards the nearest entry way, going down past a powder room and what looks like an office, to the door at the end of the hall. 

Credence nuzzles his face into Percival’s neck, breathing him in, and feels rather than sees the door kicked open and then secured behind them. 

The next thing he knows, silky soft sheets and plush blankets cradle him, as Percival stands tall above him, finally taking back his height advantage, for the moment at least. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” The man is saying, and Credence isn’t sure he can disagree, not at least when Percival looks so earnestly at him. “Thank you.” He replies earnestly, and then there’s another kiss being granted. 

All the while Percival’s hands begin to wander, undressing Credence without magic, but with a swiftness that only comes from eagerness and desire. 

Percival has divested him of his shirt and suspenders within seconds, helping him sit up to shrug them off completely, while Credence’s cock strains against the confines of his dress pants. 

He then feels Percival moving away, so he opens blurry eyes and finds the man on his knees in front of him, pulling off his shoes and socks in two quick movements, grasping Credence’s bare ankle in one hand to angle his leg up, pulling it against his own waist. Credence swallows thickly once more, and watches Percival’s hand as it traces from his calf, to knee, then up his inner thigh. 

He cries out when the man’s fingertips graze his cock, and then leave him wanting by going for the zip fly instead, simply freeing him from the pants and then leaving him in just his underwear. 

Credence is left sprawling on the bed, shivering from anticipation and only able to watch as Percival undresses himself. He does it carelessly, perhaps long past patience, ripping buttons as he opens his shirt the rest of the way, tossing it aside, then pushing his trousers and underwear down together, vanishing his shoes and socks away to his closet, Credence guesses. 

As a result,  _ he’s _ the one who’s overdressed, and Percival climbs on top of him on the bed, seeking out his lips in a fierce kiss. Credence gives back as good as he gets, feeling the wet nudge of the man’s cock on his stomach, and then the heated skin over his back as his hands sweep up his spine. 

Credence uses the leverage to pull him onto his side, and their bodies shift. 

Percival goes onto his back, and keeps Credence hovering over him, urging him to rut into his thighs, over his groin, with a firm hand on the back of his neck, and fingers carding roughly through his hair. 

“But I want more of you, I want you… inside me.” 

Credence says it without stuttering, though his face flames, and Percival’s head falls back into the bed, his back arching, cock twitching over his belly. “Fuck. Credence. You don’t mean that, do you, truly?”

He nods, and moves away from the man’s lips, too tempting and wonderous to devote his focus to, or it’ll be all over too soon. “I do. I want it all.” 

Percival sighs heavily, as if considering all the dozens of consequences to saying no, or another time, and instead just nods before kissing his cheek. “I suppose you’d best be on your back then.” 

Credence goes, laughing a little at their half naked dance on the bed, happily shucking off his underwear, ignoring the man’s low gasp at the sight of his groin, more than enough to compare to his height, as he lays flat on the bed, eagerly pinned by more than just Percival’s stare. 

“You’re, fuck, I’m not sure I could fit that in my mouth. But I’ll be damned if I won’t try.” 

The man finally finishes, and Credence gulps down a whimper. 

His hips buck up, as Percival’s fingers close about his length, and stroke him from root to tip, making his entire body light up with arousal. The man settles himself between Credence’s open legs, and looks up at him as if uncertain, before Percival is then lowering his mouth to replace his hand on his cock. 

Credence’s eyes force themselves shut, and he gasps aloud, feeling on the verge of exploding from bliss. His cock head hits the back of the man’s throat, and he retreats, but not without sucking hard, and keeping a hand on Credence’s waist, grasping at his hip, fingers firmly holding his skin. 

Percival doesn’t need to do much more than bob his head once or twice before Credence is shivering apart into a thousand pieces of starlight, his cock spilling seemingly endlessly into the man’s spasming throat. Both of Percival’s hands steady themselves on his waist, and he digs his heels into the mattress, trying to urge him back up to kiss him once more, Credence never thought he’d feel starved for it, not after  _ that _ , but he is. 

Percival ignores him, or chooses not to do so, instead, pressing a hand between Credence’s legs, massaging a line down from his softening cock, wetly slipping out of the man’s mouth, and falling to rest on his stomach. 

The next thing he knows his body jolts with a renewed bolt of lust, and Percival’s cheek is pillowed on his inner thigh, while the man’s fingertips rub slow circles along the tight pucker of his hole. 

It’s slick and wet in a heartbeat, as Credence realizes the whisper of air against his skin is a spell, not simply mindless murmurings. Percival dips a thumb inside him, and taps both his forefinger and middle finger on Credence’s taint, actually speaking, demanding his attention. “Credence… are you alright?” 

“Y-yes, thank you.” Percival must be laughing at him, but not unkindly.

“You’re very welcome. But if you want me to fuck you, I need to work you up to three fingers to be safe, alright?” Credence thinks he answers with words, but he might be humming confirmation without any.

Percival’s hand remains where it is, and the thumb widens into two fingers, both slickly pressing in and out of his hole, spreading slowly, increasing the burn. Credence’s eyes cross and his cock jumps over his skin, trying to recover, while arousal coils hotly in his gut. 

Percival moves to breathe over his ass, on him, right over where his fingers are working in and out of Credence. The next thing he knows, the man’s  _ tongue _ is flitting across the top of his rim, and there’s two  _ long _ fingers curling into him, brushing against something that makes him cry out, and then groan like he’s wounded. 

Credence squirms a little under Percival’s arm, bracing over his waist, holding him down from bucking too hard, and he reaches out blindly, catching the man’s hair in one hand, the sweaty nape of his neck with the other. “Please! Please, I need more.” He says.

It’s a desperate wish, that he’s not sure he means, but he does, in a way. 

Percival grants it to him, slipping in the third longest finger, while starting to move back up his body, and obviously rubbing himself into the sheets the whole way. Credence groans again, and shifts his hands around, catching the man’s groin, and grasping weakly for his cock. 

“Credence, you can’t, I’ll come too quickly if you don’t stop touching me- ah!” 

Percival’s hand stills, and his head falls down, thunking heavily onto Credence’s shoulder, while wetness spurts and splatters from the man’s cock onto his hand, over his stomach and thighs. 

He shivers with the knowledge of what he’s just done, and Percival lets out a low moan, before recovering enough to speak. “Fuck.” 

The man curses quietly, and then turns his cheek, kissing sloppily on Credence’s chest, up past one of his peaked nipples, and then he just lays there, panting into his skin. 

“I can’t believe it. You’ve made me regress to boyhood. Credence, my darling boy. It’s all because of you.” 

Percival is laughing too now, and the next thing he knows, surging up higher to kiss him on the lips, while starting to flex his hand again, two fingers slipping right back inside Credence’s hole.

“Don’t think I’m not going to show you a good time.” Percival says, and Credence lets out a whine. 

“God… you  _ have _ , you’ve been so wonderful, Percival.” 

The man chuckles weakly, a touch of weariness in his expression when Credence manages to pry open his lids. “I appreciate it, truly. Now come for me, won’t you?”

Percival works him up to accepting that third finger, with all of them buried deep, as each backstroke hits over that perfect spot inside Credence that lights him up, that’s finally enough to make his entire body seize with pleasure.

He’s hardly recovered enough to get halfway aroused, but Percival leans away from his mouth to lick and nip over his neck, making Credence properly orgasm. 

His aftershocks ripple and tingle through him, even as Percival withdraws his hand and magicks away the mess, including that which his own come has made on Credence’s body. 

He feels a touch of regret for that, not getting to taste the man, but it’s alright. Another time.

As he’s pulled close to Percival’s chest, tucked under his chin, he hears way the man’s breathing slows,  Credence knows that this is something important. 

Percival feels safe with him, he trusts him enough to sleep right next to him, with naught but a scant single blanket pulled over them both. 

Credence drifts off shortly after, and he wraps an arm around the man’s waist for security.

 

 

* * *

 

Percival stirs when the warmth of morning sunshine falls on his face, and he blinks, adjusting to the sudden brightness. That’s right before he remembers, last night. 

It’s Christmas, and he’s got the best present of all in his arms, his bed. 

Well. Not quite  _ in _ his arms. 

Credence is nestled behind him, curled and wrapped around his back, protecting him from the night, with their legs entangled beneath the sheets. 

Percival smiles to himself, and drags a hand back from where he was blindly reaching out into nothingness, clasping it over Credence’s own, flat on his stomach, squeezing gently. 

The boy stirs against him, huffing a breath into the back of Percival’s neck, making the small hairs on his nape stand up. Finally, Percival squirms around, turning so that he’s flat on his back, and can fully take in the sight of Credence as he’s just waking up. 

His dark hair is mussed in waves over his forehead, and his brown eyes flutter open, long lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks. His lips are plush, pinked from their kissing, and various other activities. 

Percival can feel the soreness of a bruise on his collarbone, that he barely remembers being given, and he knows Credence is probably a bit achy between his legs. 

Unless… they hadn’t… did they? 

“Good morning.” Credence says, ever the polite guest, and Percival can feel his cheeks flushing. 

“I hope I didn’t take too much advantage of you.” He blurts it out, and there it is. 

Credence goes red, and then ducks his head, burying it in against Percival’s chest. 

He mumbles more than answers in a clear sentence, and Percival has to reach around and down to confirm, by fondly groping over the boy’s ass to see that well, at least he has had the decency to clean up after their sexual relations. 

Credence shakes his head, and then pulls back to smile sheepishly at Percival. 

“We didn’t… you did no such thing. In fact, you made  _ me _ come twice. I feel horrible about neglecting you.” Credence says it like there’s some kind of deficiency, as if he  _ owes _ Percival a fucking orgasm. 

“You don’t have to-” Credence shushes him with a kiss, using his signature move against him, and then one of the boy’s slender fingered hands is sliding under the sheets, wickedly swift on its journey to finding Percival’s hardening cock, and making his entire body jolt from the touch. 

His thumb rubs across the slippery head, and Percival’s finding it very hard not to let out an undignified noise like a whimper. Credence sighs sweetly against him, and then begins shuffling backwards, rubbing himself like a cat on Percival’s chest, down to his stomach. 

His legs splay open wide automatically like an invitation, and Credence accepts, eagerly. 

“I want to, Mister Graves… Percival. You’re wonderful. I believe in you.”

He’s rather not sure what that means, but to him, it’s the promise of something entirely wicked and impossible. Like how Credence might be able to make him come but still leave him fuckable. 

Percival loses all logical trains of thought to the station that’s clearly marked Credence’s hot wet mouth, as his cock vanishes between those plush lips, and the boy’s humming softly is enough to vibrate into his skin, and very being. 

Credence simply copies what he had done to him, and Percival’s teeth are set on edge as the boy’s hands quite firmly hold him down, keeping him from thrusting up. 

His orgasm steals over him like a sudden breeze of cool air, and Credence pulls off of his cock, still blurting out white dribbles of come, with a wet noise that makes Percival blush hotly. 

“There, still hard enough. See?” Credence says, almost like an afterthought, letting go of Percival, and crawling back up his body to perch over his thighs, grinning down at him from his virtually towering height. Like this, in the morning sunlight, Credence’s pale skin seems to glow, and Percival wonders dimly if the boy isn’t part veela or something to give him such an ethereal sort of beauty, as well as sexual prowess despite being fairly new to it all. 

At least, he thinks the boy is. “Are you a virgin, Credence?” 

Percival could have bitten his tongue for such rudeness, but he is  _ dying _ to know, after all, and Credence simply nods at him, before lowering himself into another kiss, ending with a peck on his nose.

“But I’ve self abused myself plenty of times. So I know a little. I promise though, that spell you did last night, with the slick, that’s new. Please teach me.” 

Percival exhales loudly, and then arches his back a little, grinding up against the vee of Credence’s groin, feeling his heated skin pushing back, as the boy’s cock rests fully hard on his stomach. 

“It’s not quite a spell one says aloud, often. But here.” Percival mumbles it, and Credence beams at him, before then casting it himself, ending up with a palmful of lubrication, rather than a spoonfuls worth. 

He then quickly and liberally spreads over his own cock, letting out a breathy moan. 

Percival uses his own amount of slick, dipping his fingers into it, before reaching behind Credence and fingering along down his cleft, feeling the way the muscle flutters beneath his touch, accepting one fingertip easily. Credence looms over him, and presses his forehead against Percival’s as he continues to stroke himself, with the soft whispering of reason being to help relax quicker. 

Percival wants to chastise him, remind him that it’s not about speed or slowness, but about method, and practice. Credence pushes back on one finger, and then his body shudders at two, as Percival sees the boy’s hand slowing on his cock, then squeezing firmly at the base. He smiles to himself, and Credence’s hand is suddenly there, beside his own. “Percival, please, I’m ready. Very close too.”

If that’s not motivation to take it  _ slower _ , nothing is. 

But then again, Credence is on top, guiding the way, so Percival pulls his fingers back, wiping them on the sheet to then grasp over the boy’s hip, and his free hand falls to angle his cock up. 

Credence settles easily down on it, taking Percival in an inch at a time, until his eyes close to prevent the sight of it all. He’s going to be in huge trouble if anyone so much as asks him what he got or did for Christmas, he knows.

Percival starts to rock his hips upwards, and Credence pushes firmly back down, keeping him all but buried inside the tight wet clench of warm muscle. He’s barely allowed any give, until Credence suddenly falls forward over him, both hands bracing at the sides of his face, dropping down for a kiss, while continuing to roll his hips down. 

With each shift of Credence’s ass over his cock, Percival finds his grip on the boy’s waist tightening until he  _ knows _ there are going to be bruises, but perhaps he shouldn’t care. 

Credence clearly doesn’t mind, so why should he? 

Percival sits up a little, urging Credence back, and his arms then rise up, winding around the boy’s slender back, keeping him close, chest flush to his own. 

He can feel the hard line of the boy’s cock against his stomach, and he feels a touch guilty for neglecting Credence so long, but he’s rather absorbed in his task, after all, fully inside. 

Percival doesn’t intend to make Credence come from just that, but when the boy moves a different way, lifting up to settle down again, he suddenly clamps down, and warm pulses spread over and down his skin. Credence’s head falls onto Percival’s shoulder, and hot puffs of breath hit his skin. 

He’s got a welling of pride inside his chest before the crashing of his own orgasm hits him, and Percival is put on his back again, by Credence whimpering over him, and rocking down on his slowly softening cock. “God, oh god, you feel so good, you felt so good. I felt when you came inside me.” 

Credence is babbling adorably, and Percival just pets a hand over his hair, mildly attempting to flatten the riot its become from sleeping and now sex again.

He doesn’t want to leave the mess, but he’s also too weak to move a muscle to really cast a spell, so Percival simply lies there, and lets Credence move off of his cock, not caring of the come oozing back down his thighs as he cuddles up into his side. 

“You were amazing, did I do okay?” Credence asks, his voice small, even as his lanky and sweaty body curves around Percival, spread out flat on the bed.

“Oh yes. Quite. I think I need coffee before doing anything else, though.” 

He catches the sound of Credence’s laugh, high and light, like the tinkling of bells. 

“Very  _ strong _ coffee, right?” Percival hums in agreement. “Merry Christmas, Credence.” 

There’s a hand dragging over his bare chest, that finds one of his own, as fingers lace through Percival’s, then squeeze gently. 

“Yes, yes it is.” 

 

* * *

 

**~end**

**Author's Note:**

> i keep finding typos so also pls dont @ me.  
> i know its shit without being betaed but im lazy and impatient.


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